To Have Her Look At me
by Alexeston
Summary: A one shot, POV story from Gabrielle, recalling the first time with Xena, adding to her scroll documentations.


I'd do anything for her to look at me that way. Anything. Even if I make her angry, I'll edge it out of her, because seeing her blue eyes flash at me is magical in any form. I don't know what this says about me. I don't care. She casts a look my way and I want to shield myself from it. It's erotically painful and I have an instinct to fend off the piercing looks with my hands, or bracelets, or parchments. I may have a pointy quill and a few sais, but she has pointed and penetrating glares. It's worse than a weapon. It leaves me confused, confounded, sweaty, and deliciously wanting more.

I once used her Chakram to cut a fish. I knew she'd be upset. Again, I didn't care. It was so divinely worth the way she snatched the Chakram from my hands, her face inches from my own, with the heated pads of her fingertips grazing my arm. Every hair stood on end as if Zeus threw thunderbolts at me. I never roll my eyes when people say, "love at first sight" because it's true. It's simply true. Thank you, Aphrodite. I'm sure you're responsible.

I wanted to travel with her before I understood the reasoning behind it. I could have had a stable life, a secure one, married well enough and had children. It was her cobalt blue eyes that changed me forever. You know, the old adage, eyes are the mirrors of our souls. I couldn't reach hers if I tried, not even this day. I saw a chasm of pain, of shame, of a once self-righteous goddess of a woman to a hallowed, shell of one. There was something still flickering in there, but I saw brokenness.

I wanted to help her.

I wanted to help fix her.

I wanted to know her.

I wanted to really, really know her.

I wanted to be her travel companion.

She didn't say no to my request. She was annoyed and seemingly put off and I know she didn't need me there. She was used to traveling alone. She preferred it, but still she didn't say no. I'll love her always for that moment. She chose me. I know, in my heart, she saw something in me, too.

Because she wanted to help me.

She wanted to help fix me.

She wanted to know me.

She wanted to really, really know me.

We'd get a little too close around our evening campfires, touching shoulders, with usually me regaling an exaggerated story of my accomplishments, such as petting Argo, or catching dinner, and she'd maybe grin for me, or better yet, satisfyingly lick her fingers when she enjoyed my cooking. The metaphors flow like juices.

We had been traveling for nearly two years now, and oh the painful, slow build of honey-dipped torture. One night, in particular, I remember quite fondly. We were making our bedrolls ready for the night, talking about the stars and the oddities of a day in our lives, which were plentiful, and as we lay there, in the quiet chirping of the evening, I reached to my side, grabbing my staff with the intention to aim for her head. Instead, I hit her face. She flinched. She covered her nose with her hands. I was thrown. I apologized. We had been playing this game with each other for a while, seeing if I could best her, to which I never, ever did. Except this once. In hindsight, she did it on purpose. She allowed me to do it as an excuse for me to apologize, so I believed, anything to get closer. I bent over her, taking her in, and lingered a moment too long before kissing her cheek. She flinched again. I felt hurt by the reaction. I wanted her to look at me, so I hovered awkwardly a moment more until she did. She focused that gaze at me and said, "Get some sleep, Gabrielle..." drawing out my name like a plunging dagger to my soul. Still, I managed to have her look at me. Her hypnotic eyes settled upon mine and they softened a bit. A slight, twist of a smile coming to her lips. She rolled back over to her side, leaving me feeling cold and emotionally naked.

I wanted to be naked for her.

I couldn't sleep. I got up to gather more wood for the fire. When I arrived she was sitting upright, in her bedroll, watching me. I put the wood into the fire to stave off the chill, although I wasn't feeling anything but tingling shooting sparks deep inside my belly. It would radiate toward my thighs. She looked at me like she knew. She could smell me, smell my heat.

I gathered next to her with nothing to say, but I gently rubbed my hand over her elbow and told her to go back to sleep. She shifted. I leaned in a bit closer to smell her hair. To smell of her scent, to bathe and soak into her for as long as I could. I closed my eyes just to remember the faintest scent of dew, heat, musk and desire, to which all belonged to me. I opened my eyes to see her focused eyes drilling into my own. I squeaked. I couldn't help myself. I also didn't trust myself. "Are you okay?" I don't know whose voice said it; hers or mine. "No, not really."

That's when it happened. I put my body over hers, claiming her, owning her, even if only for a moment before she threw me off in disgust and cast me away never wanting to see me again. I placed my body overtop her hardness of form and bent down within inches of her face. She was still. She was breathing. She never pulled or forced me away. I was the one who initiated. I managed to surprise her after all. I kissed her lips, gently parting them with my tongue. I held her arms down with my own, smaller ones, as if I had any great power, but it turns out, I did have power. I was feeling myself come to life, come into my own, come into her.

I reached for her hair, and pulled the strands of darkness from her face, and was it my imagination, or did I see some of the darkness leave her eyes? She shone those blue eyes at me in desperation, wanting me to set the tone, to be the one to control. I saw a different darkness in her eyes. Hooded eyes, dilated eyes longing for me. You can't imagine how it feels to be wanted by Xena. I bent over her again, my hips straddling her loins, and I ground down upon her with a fierceness I didn't know I possessed. I delivered a wet, fiery kiss Ares would have been jealous to witness. Maybe he did. She kissed me back. She didn't tell me to stop, she didn't push me away, she didn't flinch. I feel her hands softly reach around my back, pulling me further into her. Her eyes still open, we look at each other. For a moment, I worry this will be awkward upon first light and we have to face ourselves and what we're about to do, but the thoughts leave me as she tugs at my top, pulls me into her open and wanting mouth, and devours me with pulsing passion. There's no going back. There's only a forward motion into something new, yet something very comforting and familiar.

It's been 5 years and we still make love like that night I tried to hit her with my staff, because she let me. She chose me, Gabrielle, a bard and companion and lover of Xena's, working every day for justice and redemption. She chose me to see all of her; the glorious, the dark, the wild and untamed, and the softly feminine. It's been 5 years and it feels like 5 days. She asked me to marry her today. I don't think I need to document my answer. I think this scroll says it all.

...


End file.
